


In her own mind, she is the blessed girl

by jadelennox



Category: Jade - Sally Watson
Genre: Blank Verse Blog Week, Character of Color, Female Character of Color, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadelennox/pseuds/jadelennox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her own mind, she is the blessed girl<br/>who freed me, thinks she freed me, thinks she owned<br/>and thus could free me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In her own mind, she is the blessed girl

**Author's Note:**

> A blank verse fic for Sally Watson's Jade.  
> (Where D'hom'no, a slave, is freed by Jade  
> \-- and "renamed" Domino -- before the girls  
> run off with pirates, Mary Read et al.)
> 
> [](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/)  
> This work by jadelennox is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/).

In her own mind, she is the blessed girl  
who freed me, thinks she freed me, thinks she owned  
and thus could free me. Like she freed that fox,  
she says, when she was just a girl, and saw  
a poor trapped beast, imprisoned, dumb. She freed  
the fox, dear saviour she. _I am no fox._

We're sisters in restriction, so she says.  
The darling rebel, freed by her own hand  
from binding stays that cut her breath, the books  
that sit upon her head to mend the slump  
of shoulders. Freedom's necessary air  
the same for both. Are stays like shackles, then?

"My Domino!" she cries, and holds my hands  
in love. Her own are no less dear to me.  
Yet rescues of the kidnapped multitudes,  
from vile slavers slaughtered by we four,  
are for my Jade salvation from her hand.  
Not Oyo, Hausa, Benin, but a mass  
of grateful slaves to whom she's gifted life.

"My sister dear," she whispers in my ear,  
and sister true she is. But does she think  
that Joshua and I, if captured, would  
have had a trial? Would have been let go?  
A sister I may be, but trials are  
a privilege pink-skinned villains don't extend  
to pirates with a resale price in gold.

I hold her heart in mine, the stupid girl.


End file.
